


Wild Youth

by caswella



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Coming of Age, Intrigue, M/M, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-12 00:46:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9048604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caswella/pseuds/caswella
Summary: Lance and Keith manage to fall in love with each other twice. It's the stuff in between that fucks it all up.





	1. 1A

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PepperFoxy](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=PepperFoxy).



> My Voltron Xmas exchange for PepperFoxy! I worked on this thing for a solid two and a half months straight, and it's not up to snuff quite yet, but I think you'll like it (シ_ _)シ

It felt disingenuous to tell someone he was in love with them.

Lance didn’t know why he fell in and out of love as fast as his mother changing channels. At first, there was Barbara, Gabriella, Giselle, Ivy, Mariana, Julieta, Ariana, Manuela, Gabriella again, Mia, and so on and so forth. His romantic history was one rife with girls - but he was a bad boyfriend.

Not in the sense that he didn’t treat every girl he was with like the princess they were, but soon their luster seemed to tarnish and they were no longer a shiny new thing that he was interested in. His longest relationship had lasted 10 months, and that was only because he had been gone for six of them.

So maybe that was why he flirted so often. Trying so hard in an effort to see if something would stick. He felt bad when girls always seemed to fall harder than he did - not for lack of trying on his part. He wanted to. He really, _really_ wanted to, but ‘it’ was never there.

Was there something wrong with him? His mom loved all the girls he brought home, always saying that this time she was ‘the one.’ What did that even mean? What ‘one’ was he looking for?

Things were even more complicated when he got into the Garrison.

He remembered receiving the letter in the mail.  He remembered how the school's official seal on the front shone gold in the light and sweating bullets as he got his mother to open up the opportunity that could very well be the rest of his life.

And when he got in he remembered the feeling he had from day one - numb. Trying to let the opening statement of “Congratulations” sink in. It was still sinking in when he was giving his family a teary-eyed goodbye. He was the Big brother leaving home to become a fighter pilot like he always dreamed. A one-way ticket to greatness.

But being forced to do push-ups in the mud did not seem like a ticket to greatness.

“I said 200 pushups. Give me 200 and you can leave. Until then, don’t expect to eat at the mess hall.”

Lieutenant Veros was a beautiful woman. The way the room stopped to breath when she walked in was something of a marvel. She held herself with a level of poise that could only have been developed by doing the program herself - her fantastic body confirmed it. . . Her lilting voice though did not match her instructions - instructions that kept Lance from eating dinner.

His arms were weak, and he only had about fifty more pushups to do, but the rain and the mud did not help. His hands were slipping every time he tried to lift himself, and his entire front side was covered in black mud. He was tired and jet lagged and all he could remember was putting his belongings away before being escorted to the training grounds to exercise, no new clothes to make up for the ones he was currently destroying.

Was this going to be the rest of his life?

 

The mess hall was crowded with fresh-faced recruits and hardened seniors. There was an obvious difference between the two. The surging testosterone made him acutely aware of his baby fat and lack of facial hair; he self-consciously rubbed at his smooth face. There was no wondering where on the spectrum he fell on.

The food that the cooks gave him was barely edible but he refused to miss his mother’s home cooked meals. It hadn’t even been a full twenty-four hours, and he could already sense the choked up feeling of homesickness brew in his gut with the military slop.

“Hey!”

Everyone in the mess hall turned, eyes drawn to a shout, which was followed by the loud clatter of an aluminum tray hitting the concrete floor.

A group of cadets was glaring at another like a wild can on the prowl., The younger one bared his teeth up at the older boys. Lance and the snarling one were probably the same age if the baby fat on his cheeks told him anything. What he didn’t understand was why the boy with the thick black hair was challenging a group of four senior cadets, and on his first day.

“Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” One of the older cadets crossed his arms and growled at the smaller boy - and he _was_ a boy. His body was lithe and face still round, but his eyes told a different story. The flat color in his eyes looked like he had seen too much, and it felt odd to see a young boy have such haunted eyes.

“You knocked the tray out of my hand.” The boy growled back, his fists were clenched.  Lance readjusted pretended to eat his slop instead of sitting obviously on the edge of his seat, waiting to see who would throw a punch first.

The air was tense; everyone, even those watching, looked tense. Lance wanted to intervene, but it wasn’t his place. If the black haired boy wanted to get himself beat up on his first day, that was his prerogative.

-

Keith had just been minding his own business, waiting for his portion of slop when a couple of assholes had decided that he was easy pickings and knocked his tray out of his hands. He had already been at the Garrison for a couple of days. He couldn’t wait to leave his foster parents house, and as soon as he knew that he had been accepted, he was already out the door with his single backpack and without a backward glance.

They wouldn’t miss him, he knew that much. , Considering they had seven other foster kids they had to look after he understood, but it still cut deep that no one had congratulated him on his entry into the best galactic school in the country.

It’s not that things were all that terrible here. He had a room that he only had to share with one other person instead of four, the slop that was nutritional instead of the greasy fast food he was used to, and then there was the glorious privilege of privacy. Everything, so far, had been going well, until he had dinner on his third day.

And now Keith was about to get beat up, he realized that and he accepted that fact the second his tray hit the ground, but it didn’t mean he wouldn't go down fighting. These clowns were trying to assert their dominance by picking on the little fish in the pond and he wasn’t about to roll over and pretend that he couldn’t put up at least a little bit of a fight.

“Yeah, how old are you?” One of the cadets said, smooth and snobby voice irritating Keith more and more with every passing second. His face matched the other two. Triplets - which meant three times the asshole.

“Twelve?” Asshole number 2 said.

“I didn’t know they allowed babies into the Garrison.” The pig-nosed one said, arms crossed and body open. He didn’t perceive Keith as a threat at all - big mistake.

“And I didn’t know they allowed assholes.” He shot back, infuriated. He couldn’t think up the best comebacks when he was angry, and he hoped his face wasn’t turning red because of it.

All four of them glared at the newcomer that had dared to insult them, “Well…” The pig-nosed freckled brunette, clearly the ringleader of the group, took a step closer, and Keith’s hackles raised in danger. “Someone should learn some discipline, right boys?”

The Pig noses minions all smirked and nodded, and Keith wondered if it would be considered self-defense if he pulled out the knife from his shoe.

-

After dinner, Lance dragged his aching body to his room. He had never had the chance to meet his new roommate, but he knew that they would be infinitely better than his older brother who farted at least a hundred times in his sleep and tossed and turned until he was a burrito.

When the door slid open he found that the plain room now had a little bit more decor. There were some posters on the wall with a couple of choice bands, and a large magnetic calendar over top of the desk on the right side of the room. A small cactus sat on the plywood desk, and he knew that he would probably end up being the person to take care of both it and the succulent plants his mother was planning on sending him.

“Okay, calm down, you don’t even know this dude yet.”

The bed was a single thin piece of foam on what looked to be a rickety metal frame, the window faced the desert, the ceiling had water damage, and the carpet had a mysterious stain on it that he hoped was blood and not something else.

He shook his head to try to clear it, positive thoughts starting to dwindle. “It’s okay, you can work with this.”

Maybe a little bit of colour would brighten up the place, and then he could get a rug to cover up the stain if scrubbing it wouldn’t work. He couldn’t ask his parents to send him a bean bag chair if he was desperate but he was already holding himself back from calling home every five minutes. Lance could absolutely go a full day without calling his home.

There wouldn’t be morning wake up calls or the smell of bacon to rouse him from his sleep, but that was fine. He could do without it for the next three years. He definitely didn’t feel like he was going to cry just thinking about it.

-

Hunk was a big kid with an even bigger heart.

“Curfew isn’t for another twenty minutes. Let’s explore a little.”

“Sure, but do you think we could go to the little boys room first?”

“Come on Hunk! Can’t you hold it in or something?”

“Oh, okay.”

They weren’t even a quarter of the way onto the quad and they already had to find a washroom. Lance rubbed his forehead and took a deep sigh. “Fine fine. I think there’s a washroom this way.” They had explored a little, every inch of the way Hunk looking distracted because of his small bladder, but Lance focused instead, trying to find all the nooks and crannies his Father told him about. He frowned, not able to recognize much from the pictures he was shown as a child; maybe he just needed to look harder.

“I think there’s a washroom in that building.” The building Hunk was pointing at wasn’t a part of the main complex - off in the corner of the grounds and much smaller. It looked like something Lance had seen before; maybe he could kill two birds with one stone. Hunk’s bladder and Lance’s curiosity.

“Yeah, let’s go check it out.”

It took a few tries with the older door handle, but eventually they were able to open the double doors. Once it was clear that nothing was in his way Hunk made like a mad man towards the closest available facilities. Lance followed at a more leisurely pace, taking in the blank walls and scuffed floors. Odd how a seemingly useless building would have dirty floors.

He heard the unexpected yelp of Hunk, accustomed to his scared voice already, and jogged towards the washroom. He was kind of a scaredy cat. He probably found a spider or something. The door the men's washroom slid open and instead of seeing Hunk cowering from a spider he saw the faces of triplets and a  pig-nosed asshole.

From the angle, and the way they were crowded in front of the toilet, Lance couldn’t very well see what they were doing, but he could make a good guess, by the sound of something coughing and splashing...

“Hey!” He shouted defiantly in the face of Pig Nose.

Hunk looked at him like he was crazy. In all honesty, Lance didn’t know what he was doing either. He had their attention now so he might as well do something with it.

He stood tall, mouth set in a grim line and fists clenched, ready to start swinging if he had to.

“Let him go.”

They all smirked like he had just told a funny joke. He felt like one. How the hell was he going to go up against the four older boys who had considerable more muscle on them, while he was skin and bones? He was going to get his ass kicked.

“He hadn’t finished his bath yet.” The triplet who fisted the young boy’s wet hair gave a giddy, evil smile. His mad eyes flared as he shoved his head back into the toilet bowl.

The sound of struggling was hard for Lance to hear. He was infuriated. He thought the Garrison upheld everything that his family had brought him up to believe -  Community, morals, altruism. So far he had experienced none of it.

That was going to have to change.

Beside him, Hunk no longer looked scared. Behind an air of nervousness, he too was mad; Lance appreciated the improvement of his odds; two on four was better than one on four. Maybe they could make it out of there with minimal bruising.

It was a stupid optimistic thought that he dismissed immediately.

“Let him go and maybe we’ll go easy on you.”

They all laughed. Lance was just the king of comedy today, wasn’t he?

“Sure kid. And what are you and fatso here gonna do? Call your moms?”

The sound of gasping and splashing made him feel nauseous. He did wish he could call his mom. He wished he could call her and  tell her that all these stupid kids were nothing like he imagined, that his Father had given him all these false expectations, and that he changed his mind; he wanted to go home where everyone was nice and didn’t try to drown a kid in a toilet just because he stood up to some bullies. This was some shit you would see in the movies back in the 2000’s. Not today, not now, and not here.

But it was happening, and Lance wasn’t going to let it stand. If he wanted to change the system, he had to be the change. It was going to start by kicking the ass of these senior cadets.

Without hesitation, Lance reached into his pocket, grabbed his phone and took a photo of the four boys dunking the young cadet in the toilet. Their expressions horrified.

“I could just tell Veros instead.”

They let the boy go, and when the cadet turned around to spit out toilet water and wipe his face Lance wasn’t all that surprised to see the boy from the mess hall that had stood up to them all that afternoon. He felt a coiling of guilt settle in his stomach for watching it and not intervening earlier.

Well, he was making up for it now.

“Delete that photo if you know what’s good for you.” One of the triplets said, voice like grease - dirty and bad for Lance’s health.

“Make me.”

All four of them lunged like wild animals cornered. Lance was shocked long enough for the pig-nose leader to tackle him. His head hit the tiled floor hard, sending him into a daze and making him queasy.

A blaring pain came to his side, then his other one. A kick came to his ribs. Another punch to his cheek. A boot hit his nose and a gush of blood poured from his nostrils, leaking into his mouth. He could taste the iron on his tongue, choking him and making him gag. He weakly tried to throw a punch back at pig-face, succeeding only enough to scratch his forehead and from it came a small trickle of blood. He stopped in his beatings to wipe it away. One of the triplets was still kicking him, now at his waist. He always bruised like a peach.

He hurt all over. It was all his fault that Hunk was brought into this. He was probably going to get transferred out from his room, or worse yet, they would all get expelled for fighting.

God, he hurt all over, but it was dulling with each passing moment like his body was trying to conserve energy. Without any warning, the Triplets stopped, but Pig nose just smiled, pulling his fist back for one final sucker punch.

Lance spit a large watery glob of blood in his face. “Fuck you.”

“You little shit.”

The boy tackled him, pushing him back and slamming the Pig-nosed bastards head into the wall. He crumbled like a sack of potatoes. One of two triplets were already down, Hunks weight behind a single punch being much more impressive than previously thought, but not enough to fend off the other two. They were both pummeling Hunk as hard as they could. Lance lifted himself from the ground and kicked one hard enough that he tripped over Hunk and slammed his nose into the tile floor. He screamed bloody mary.

At least he would be known as the crooked nose triplet now.

The third triplet looked feral, but now it was three on one, and before him or Hunk could do anything the black haired boy leapt at the blond triplet, straddling him and punching him over and over until his head snapped back and he was no longer fighter, only gasping and choking on his bloody mucus.

They were all breathing hard, the sound mingled with the groans of four individuals who had gotten their asses kicked.

Lance did not want to stick around for long for someone to find out what had happened.

“We gotta get out of here! Come on!”

“I’m ready whenever you are!”

Lance turned tail and bolted, followed close behind by Hunk and the black-haired boy. He didn’t stop until he was safe and sound back in the main building. He didn’t want to bother taking the elevator back to his dorm. Instead, he ran for the emergency staircase, cold and all brick. Hunk and the boy both collapsed on the stairs, breathing hard and bruised.

“Ha, holy shit.” Lance breathed heavily using the wall for support. He couldn’t believe they beat up a bunch of seniors. He laughed again, dubious that he not only got out of the situation alive but with all his limbs intact.

“That was crazy!” Hunk exclaimed, face beet red from running, “What the hell? Those guys are going to find us and beat the shit out of us now!”

“They won’t.” It was the first time the boy had spoken. His purple eyes were sharp, and his thick black hair was still wet, soaking his collar and shoulders where it sat. Lance eyed him suspiciously.

“How do you know that?”

“Because a couple of kids beat the shit out of them. Do you really think they want to admit that?” He had a good point.

Lance laughed again, feeling dizzy with giddiness. He swayed slightly but caught himself on the railing.

“Wow, now that’s all over I’m feeling weird.”

The world seemed odd and his stomach was still queasy. Before him, Hunk and the haunted-eyed boy looked at Lance like they were witnessing an apparition. Was he that bad to look at?

He laughed again and tried to hold onto the railing because if he didn’t he would slip off the world.

“Ha wow, what the fuck… is going on?”

“Shit.” The boy. The boy with the pretty eyes. The boy with the silky hair, “he has a concussion.”

-

Lance was on some pretty good shit. He should come to the infirmary more often.

At his bedside table was Hunk, looking pale, guilty and beat to all hell. Lance felt way better than he probably looked. Standing off to the side was the pretty boy and a pretty nurse, discussing something of importance that Lance couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to. It probably wasn’t anything important anyway.

“This is some good shit Hunk. I highly recommend.”

Hunk smiled. It was a wry thing that Lance mirrored back. Hunk looked pretty good for someone who got the shit kicked out of him. “I’m good buddy, you just rest up.”

Lance snuggled back into the sheets. “If you insist.”

“They’re going to keep you overnight to keep an eye on you.” The purple eyed boy said as he walked up to the bedside. He crossed his arms. The bruise that sat on his cheek was the same colour as his eyes, and Lance never thought purple looked prettier.

“Cool. These beds are way comfier than our rooms. You think I could put in a formal request to get better accommodations?”

“You change rooms a month in. It’s a way to weed out the weak. You know that right?”

Lance was silent before he blew out a loud raspberry, hand waving back and forth at the boy's words.

“Duh. I totally knew that. A way to weed out the weak, hilarious…”

“Hey.” Hunk started, eyes on their companion in arms, “we don’t even know your name.”

He fidgeted as if he was fighting whether or not it was a good idea to share such information as if it was top secret and only the privileged could know the information. Lance wanted to be that privileged person.

Finally, words came from his pretty mouth, soft-spoken and nervous. “It’s Keith.”

“Keith niño bonito ...”

“What is he saying?”

He kept rambling, Spanish mixed with English spilling out of his mouth. The languages felt odd and heavy on his tongue, and he wished they would stay behind the white prison bars that were his teeth.

Keith and Hunk looked confused, faces scrunched up at the words coming out of Lance.

“I _said_ -” he started, mouth full of spit but feeling like cotton, “pretty boy Keith. Pretty.”

He pointed at Keith, finger guns at the ready and made a bad imitation of gunshots. He giggled at his own inability to do much of anything. They were pumping him with some _good shit_.

“Duuuuuuuude. Good shit. Good _shit_.” He gestured towards the bag on the stand that was slowly dripping whatever it was into his system.

Both Hunk and Keith looked horrified. Keith was red in the face and Hunk even more mystified. Lance was just high.

“Um… well. So… The nurse?” Hunk was trying to change the subject. Bless his heart.

“When will she get to him?”

“In a little while. She said she had four other patients that had concussions as well tonight.”

“Haha. Three assholes and a pig, ha…”


	2. 1B

Two sentinels stood back to back, spears at the ready, eyes glowing and staring nowhere and everywhere at once. Keith would never admit it, but they somewhat creeped him out, but that fear was subsided by the desire to succeed and make Shiro proud.

Above in the observation room, the rest of Team Voltron stared down into the training room. Lance was across from the other large training robot. Bayard at the ready and feet shoulders width apart. Over the last couple of months he had improved significantly - of course, Keith would never say that to his face, and it wasn’t about how well Lance was doing. Keith just needed to focus on himself, and no one else.

He turned slightly to look up at the large windows. Shiro gave a little wave from where he was up above before Pidge and Hunk caught his attention, lips moving but words unheard. He wondered what they could be talking about. Training? Voltron? The Galra?

It probably wasn’t important, but ever since Keith had found Shiro again he had felt almost possessive. Back in the Garrison, it felt rewarding to be praised by Shiro. He had plenty of foster siblings in his lifetime, but none felt close to fraternal the way that Shiro did.

Allura’s voice sounded throughout the large training area, bouncing off the walls and alerting Keith to the task at hand, “Alright Keith, Lance. Are you ready?”

Lance widened his stance even more with his finger close to the trigger and ready to cause damage, “Born ready Princess!”

His reply was more subdued, but none the less eager, “Ready whenever you are.”

The sentinels leaped at them, spears at the ready. Keith dived to the left, coming up from a roll and his sword and shield at the ready for the next blow, aimed at his chest. The onslaught was relentless, and when Keith was able to pause the beating against his shield with his sword instead, the robot simply overpowered him, overshadowing him and bearing down.

He sidestepped quickly, letting the robot trip and catch itself. He took the moment to aim for the head but was caught off guard by being thrown by another sentinel to the ground.

The sentinel rose the spear, about to plunge it down, when its head was shot off. It’s body went limp and fell to the side, the neck sparking.

Lance looked smug where he stood, gun on his shoulder and hand on his hip. Keith growled and hastily pushed himself up, face flushed from more than the exercise.

“Looks like you owe me one, mull-” Lance was tackled by the other sentry. Keith let him struggle before bringing his sword down through the back of the robot. Pulling out left wires and circuitry exposed, bits of light jumping at the wound. The lifeless body fell on top of Lance, trapping him.

Keith smiled at the floundering and deactivated his bayard and shield.

“Looks like you owe me one, cargo pilot.”

-

Lance missed showers.

It wasn’t like the Castle didn’t have any. On the contrary. There was a large facility just for the Paladin’s use, but it wasn’t the same without all of his soaps and washes and exfoliants. Showers were a place where he didn’t have to worry about anyone. It was a time where he didn’t have to fight or argue or train or think about his new and daring responsibilities.

Being in a family meant having to fight for bathroom time, but once you were in it was like the world melted away, the only sound was the water sluicing over him and hitting the tile he stood on.

Space felt inherently different. By now he was use to space, although there was the underlying fear that the complacency of space was going to be his downfall. Every day he remembered his family back home, wondering where he was, probably mourning his death. Every day he told himself that it was a day closer to being back home, feet in the sand, body engulfed by the embrace of his family members.

It helped him get by, and when days seemed to be too long and his body felt weak after another fight with some terrifying monster, it helped him stay sane. It didn’t help with his loneliness.

Every day before bed, when the gentle hum of the ship was the only thing he could hear, he would pull out his phone, and look at his mail that his brother, sisters, mom and dad sent him. Every day the time stamp would get bigger and bigger, and inside he would slowly panic.

This wasn’t where he thought he would be when he joined the Garrison; he knew he wanted to make a difference, that much was for sure, but it would be nice if his parents at least knew that their son was out and protecting the universe, being brave and saving alien races.

What they didn’t need to know was that at the end of every day he laid in bed and wondered if it was all a dream, and his little siblings would wake him up by jumping on his bed.

-

There wasn’t much that Keith did on the ship besides train. If he could he would spend his time reading, a pastime he never indulged in that frequently, but he now missed it terribly. Matt and Shiro were book geeks back in the Garrison, and they always tried to get Keith into their little book clubs. Sometimes it would work, and they would talk for hours about a single book. The part that seemed to bother Keith was how close the older boys were, always touching somehow, making Keith feel like an outsider without even meaning to.

It wasn’t like it was their fault. It anything it was Keith’s - he wasn’t able to handle how nice they were sometimes, especially when Keith was the type of person that he was.

Sometimes he dreamt that he knew how to properly interact with people.

There was a quiet sob.

People like Lance.

He turned over and placed his hand on the wall they shared.

Maybe one day they could go back to meaning something to each other.

-

Pidge wanted help with something, at an obscene time in the day. Lance didn’t exactly get the best nights sleep before, though exhaustion eventually took over at some point. His eyes still felt red and raw but he hoped Pidge’s natural distracted nature would mean there would be no talk about Lance’s less than stellar state.

When he got to the hangar he wasn’t expecting to see Keith there as well. Neither Pidge or Keith had noticed him yet, maybe he could sneak away to his room.

“Just in time Lance. Come here.”

Pidge beckoned Lance from where he was trying to discreetly run away, but all Lance could notice was the smudges of grease all over the one shirt the genius owned, but the kid looked to not care in the slightest, too busy typing away on a laptop.

Lance walked over like he was heading to the gallows. Working with Keith was going to be awkward, but maybe he could just pretend he wasn’t there.

“Okay. I need you two to do something for me.”

He crossed his arms, skeptical, “Like what?”

“Just test out equipment.”

“Is it going to kill us?” Keith asked, which was a valid point but wasn’t going to admit on account of that Keith was the one that brought it up.

“You guys need to learn to trust me! It’s just a tracking software that I’m working on. Here.”

Pidge then brandished what looked to be a tiny but very threatening gun.

“No way in hell!”

The heavy sigh was one of disappointment, almost as if Pidge was dealing with unruly children that didn’t know what was good for them. Keith had a look on his face like he was figuring out where all his exits were, and Lance wasn’t far behind him.

“It’s just a shot! It’ll be like a small pinch.”

“You’re a small pinch!”

Pidge gave a long suffering sigh, “Lance, be reasonable. This will make it so we can find each other in dangerous situations - in case we can’t contact each other… in theory.”

“In theory?!”

“That’s why I’m testing it!”

“Let’s just do it, Lance. If it’ll help the team then fine. I’ll help.”

Lance looked at the mini piercing gun and tried to swallow the excess spit in his mouth. He then closed his eyes and held out his arm, sleeve rolled up.

Pidge placed it against the soft skin of his forearm.

“One…”

The sound, when it released, was like air being depressurized, with a long slow hiss. The pain, on the other hand, was instant and stung like a son of a bitch. It was like he had been stabbed by something way bigger than some repurposed piercing gun.

“OW!”

The spot welled up with blood. He put the wound to his mouth and glared at Pidge who was too busy putting the gun to Keith’s pale forearm and giving him the same treatment. Keith simply winced and bit his lip.

“Okay! Now that’s done we can start.”

Lance rubbed at his arm, the sting, while more subdued, was still irritating.

He looked down at Pidge, wondering what the kid could possibly be up to.

“What do we do?” Lance asked.

The wicked smile on Pidge gave them made shivers run down Lance’s spine. That was the look of a schemer if he ever saw one.

“You play hide and seek.”

-

Lance looked around another corner and frowned when he didn’t see Keith. The red blip on the little watch that Pidge had given him taunted Lance and his inability to properly play a simple kids game of hide and seek.

He was a master of this game, why in the hell was Keith so good at hiding? He tapped on the face furiously, looking around at all the empty rooms and trying to pinpoint Keith’s exact location. There were so many rooms in the Castle that the idea of having to look through them all seemed daunting.

“This thing is broken…” He tapped on it even more, and then the blip started to move, and Lance gave chase, running down a corridor and seeing the tail end of Keith’s shoes.

“Fuck you, buddy. Think you can beat a master? You got another thing coming.”

-

Keith waited until he heard Lance run by. When the footsteps faded away he let out a sigh.

And then the door hissed open, revealing Lance and his smug smile, holding up the watch and showing off the glaring red blip.

“Looks like it works, huh?”

Keith sat amongst a small pile of crates and linens, having thought he would show up Lance at this one thing as well. He was wrong. Lance was clearly better at hide and seek when he had a device helping him.

“Congratulations,” He grit out between clenched teeth, trying to stay his anger with a bite of humble pie instead. It was early and Keith hadn’t had a good night's sleep because of a certain someone.

Lance didn’t move, instead, he looked around the small closet like area, and looked at Keith as if he were a kind of apparition, a ghostly figure that he had not expected to see there before, even though the taller boy was the one that found him. There was a look of something familiar in his eyes, something that Keith had seen back when they were closer, but now he was afraid to look too deeply, in case he would realize what it was he was thinking about.

Keith walked out of the closet, shoving past Lance for no other reason than he felt like he had to; like it was expected with their relationship and all.

Whatever relationship that was.

-

Lance was still rubbing at the spot on his arm, a phantom pain he wasn’t aware of until he saw himself doing it. If anything it was a reminder that he could find Keith wherever he was. While useful for their lifestyle, it made Lance feel paranoid. It meant Keith would also know where he was, like their reunions, no matter how brief, were inevitable. Somehow Pidge had worked some kind of magic, and now Lance and Keith couldn’t stop running into each other on their off time.

He pondered it all while laying on the large curved sofa the common room had. It wasn’t the comfiest thing he had sat on, but it got him out of his room at least, and away from his own terribly lonely thoughts about his family.

There was a commotion in the hall, and when Lance looked up from where he was doing an imitation of a corpse he saw Coran and Shiro struggling with an assortment of files. Shiro looked slightly put off by the entire thing, probably having been roped in by the loud Altean.

Lance slowly lowered himself and pretended he wasn’t there.

“Lance!”

Again. He was caught again.

He bounced back up. “Yeah, Coran?”

“If you could help us bring these to the dining room? Thanks, lad.”

Lance heaved himself up from his spot, head hung low. Why couldn’t he just rest in peace?

Shiro gave him a pitying smile, although he didn’t look all that upset at having the company. Suffering together was better than suffering alone it would seem.

“What are these, exactly?” He inquired when Shiro handed some off.

Coran gave a smile when he turned back, but his smile was more mustache than mouth, “We’re going to be teaching you Paladin’s…” he then threw the documents down on the large table. Some rolled open to reveal what looked to be a familiar alien language - an alien language that he had seen around the ship,  “Altean history!”

Lance gently touched a corner of a yellowed document, seeing the symbols and feeling dread come over him. “I feel like I’m back in the Garrison.”

“You should consider yourself so lucky! Altean history is very rich and filled with wonder!”

Shiro leaned over as Coran continued on his tirade, “Coran and Allura are the only Altean’s left. Their history is going to die with them. The least we can do is help preserve it by learning about it. We owe it to them.”

Shiro had a point, and now Lance felt guilty. As the only native Spanish speaker on the ship, he could understand the loneliness of being one of the few knowing of a history he couldn’t exactly share. He couldn’t speak Spanish to anyone, except himself. At least Allura and Coran had each other. Who did he have?

There was a coil of anger and shame in his gut, but he ignored it in favour of giving Shiro a small smile, trying to hide his bitterness, “you’re right, of course.” Shiro was always right.

“And that!” Coran exclaimed wildly, his hands moving and expressive, “is why Altean history is important.”

Shiro piped up, voice soft and understand, “we’re excited to learn Coran.”

“So history lessons alongside training?” At least it was a routine he guessed, something he could focus on.

“That’s right! Morning, we start with training, to get the blood pumping. The afternoon is Altean history, and after that, we learn the language itself. It’s very easy, no worries,” he said at Lance’s and Shiro’s shocked expression, “after that, some more training!”

“Great” Lance whimpered, already feeling tired, already feeling drained, already feeling dead on his feet. He could already see more sleepless nights. He dreamt in Spanish, was he going to start dreaming in Altean too?

“Can’t wait.”

-

Pidge continued to work in silence, tinkering away at something on the computer, with interruptions to tinker with mechanical parts that seemed to be the innards of some jacked up Roomba. Or at least that’s what it looked like from his position.

The blood was rushing to his head for a while now, and his arms were shaking.

Keith felt a small drop of sweat roll down his forehead and into his hairline, but he was just happy to do his handstand against the wall.

The rapid typing slowed down, then stopped completely and Keith saw Pidge turn towards him, glasses glinting in the light, “so what happened?”

Keith grunted and moved his foot, to signal Pidge to continue with the thought,  “with you and Lance?”

An arm gave out, and Keith fell.

His head hurt and his face was flushed.

“I was only there for a little while-” back to the tinkering, quiet sounds of metal against metal and nuts and bolts being tightened or loosened depending on how the little genius wanted it, not looking invested in the answer. Keith felt like a child in this child's presence, with how forthcoming Pidge was with the question that Keith still didn’t have an answer to. What did happen between them?

“-so I don’t really know the entire story.”

Keith and Pidge both.

“But-” a loud crash as Pidge threw away a useless piece of metal, “-it feels more than just a normal falling out. You guys date or something?”

Keith spluttered and tried to come up with an appropriate answer to Pidge unprompted line of questioning, but he took too long. This was an interrogation apropos of nothing. What would Pidge even gain from knowing?

“We- I mean, there wasn’t… anything.”

Pidge stopped pulling apart the alien Roomba and directed a blank stare at Keith that told him that there was no possible way that Keith was remotely convincing.

What were Keith and Lance?

They were a ‘maybe,’ they were ‘almost, ‘not quite.’ They were a lot of things, but they were never together.

Keith spoke once more, quietly, but with conviction.

“We were nothing.”


	3. 2A

Lance was released the next day, having the morning off from his classes that he would have slept through anyway. It probably didn’t look good on his transcripts that he skipped.

The other boys in the infirmary glared at Lance on his way out - he gave them a wink and a wicked smile. The bruises on his face hurt, but no one asked questions - he didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed when no one pointed them out.

His room was in the same as when he left it the night before. Hunk was already in class, but on Lance’s desk, there was a little note asking if he was okay with a little cartoon cat doodled in the corner. He smiled as he wrote out a response, an equally cute cat drawn in the corner of his affirmation, placed it on Hunk’s desk and went about preparing himself for his next class. His downloaded schedule said that Shuttle Repair wasn’t until noon, a full two hours until he had anywhere to be.

His bag was heavy with all his materials, and when he sat down on his bed they slammed against the floor, kicking up dust. He coughed, waving his hand to dispel the particles that floated in the air.

The first fifteen minutes of his free time he scrolled through all his social media, posting whatever funny memes he found, replying to unanswered emails and inquiries from family members asking how he was doing. He left out anything that may have disappointed his mother.

When that no longer held his interest he did sit-ups on his bed but tired out within five minutes. The strain on his injured torso hurt too much to bare - he wouldn’t be doing 200 push-ups anytime soon.

Tidying up took only minutes- the room wasn’t all that lived in yet, and the extent of Lance’s cleaning included dusting and fixing the corner of his bed.

Staring at paint dry would probably be more fun, he thought.

-

The class was boring. Just as he imagined. It takes an effort to stay awake. Luckily enough, Hunk is in it with him, and every time it seemed he was close to nodding off a sharp pain would come to his leg. Hunk pinched him twenty-four different times throughout the two-hour class.

His attention would always wonder to the boy with the long, thick hair, taking meticulous notes, eyes sharp and focused, unlike Lance, who was too busy staring at the studious boy.

He elbowed Hunk in the side and tilted his head towards the boy he couldn’t keep his eyes off of, “That’s the kid from last night, right?”

“That’s Keith. Don’t you remember? You literally got into a fight for him.”

Hazy pictures flashed across his mind. He could absolutely remember the triplets and the pig-nosed bastard that had punched him in the face, but Keith was a little more difficult, seeing as he had a concussion when they had last spoken, and the most recognizable part of him was the back of his head.

“Mullet boy?”

“Yeah man, he saved your ass.”

“Well, come on, I’m pretty sure it was the other way around Hunk.”

Hunk gave Lance a long-suffering sigh, something that Lance was used to receiving, and usually, he would argue the point, but Keith was putting up his hand and replying to a question the teacher had asked, voice unwavering in the large lecture hall. Lance tried to write down what he could of the question and answer in his pathetic notebook with his dying pen.

There wasn’t much else he could focus on, but he tried his best, hypothetical questions leaving him confused and handouts that were far too long to be considered homework, along with chapters he was supposed to read. If this was how this class was going he didn’t want to think about the ones he had already missed. He might as well practice his groveling.

-

Keith jumped over obstacle after obstacle, ignoring everyone around him either falling or failing. If they couldn’t make it he at least would. He was going to prove that he was the best out of all of them. He was going to prove that he wasn’t just some little orphan boy.

When he made it to the end he bent over, gasping for air. His lungs were heaving and his muscles strained but he finished before anyone else, and that was all that mattered.

On the course, he could see Hunk screaming - his leg was caught in the rope climb and he was hanging upside down, blood rushing to his face and turning it red. Lance was maybe the fourth or fifth person away from finishing, but he looked much worse for wear. He tripped on one of the tires he was jumping out of and landed face first onto the ground with a yelp. Keith huffed a small laugh that he covered up by pretending to cough.

“Cadet.”

He stiffened. The Sergeant looked down on him, both his mustache and unibrow looked like a caterpillar had crawled onto his face and died, and nicks and cuts over his cheeks suggested that he had a difficult time going at his other facial hair earlier that day. If only he had the guts to get rid of that atrocity he called a mustache. He couldn’t remember his name - he had been calling him Unibrow in his head.

The older man looked Keith up and down, his unibrow raised in question. “I can’t help but notice that you’re the only one here.”

“Yeah?”

“It was a joint exercise.”

Keith felt his face scrunch, confused and wondering what the Sergeant was getting at.

“Your point?”

“So,” the Unibrow started, irritated but holding his tongue at the snot nosed brat, “that means that you help your teammate, cadet.”

Keith scowled at the ground. He was used to being dressed down by authority figures - he didn’t know why it was happening now. He did everything right. He finished the course the fastest; he didn’t see why he was in trouble.

“Why didn’t you help your teammate?”

“Because he was slow as shit.”

“Language.” Unibrow barked.

He bit his tongue and spoke again, voice an octave lower, angrier. “Because he was slowing me  _ down. _ ” Keith waited a moment, then continued as if forgotten, “Sir.”

They stood in front of each other, silent. Keith was fuming. A couple more people crossed the finish line, including the boy that he was supposed to be helping. He was bruised and red-faced and sweating. He definitely would have slowed Keith down.

They were all staring at Keith and Sargent Unibrow, taking in the way Keith was being talked down to like he was a child, scolded in front of his peers to make a point.

_ Point made _ , Keith thought, body trembling and wanting to punch the Sergeant in the face.

“Doesn’t matter who crossed the finish line first. What mattered was that you did it together.”

“Where I come from, it’s every man for himself.” The foster system didn’t allow for allegiances between older kids. You were either picked or you weren’t. He wasn’t going back to a place where all anyone was concerned about was the amount of money he represented on a cheque, where his things were treated as items to peddle for more money, where his being was berated as useless because he didn’t know how to pull his weight.

“Well,” Sergeant Unibrow started, almost crowding into Keith’s space, towering over him, “it’s different at the Garrison. You’re dismissed.” The man waved his hand, turning back to the other cadets to give them a few more words of wisdom before also dismissing them.

He was embarrassed, to say the least, being dressed down in front of everyone else. He could imagine everyone staring at the way Keith stomped off, flustered beyond belief and wanting to hide. So far the Garrison had fucking sucked.

“Keith!”

He kept walking.

“Wait up! Keith!”

Lance caught up to him, grabbing onto his shoulder. Keith violently shrugged him off. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, least of all Lance, especially with the bruises that were still fading on his face. A reminder of how Keith couldn’t handle things himself.

He walked briskly towards his dorm building, looking down at his feet instead of Lance’s face. He would see pity, or worse yet, he would be laughed at. He didn’t want that.

“Are you okay, man?”

“I’m fine.” He spat out, his face still red.

“That wasn’t cool what the Sarg said. He was being a dick. It’s military tactics.”

“I  _ know _ .”

“Then why are you getting so worked up about it?”

“Because!” Because he wanted to be the best, but the best wasn’t reprimanded for doing a good job. Because the best was rewarded. Because he didn’t want to get kicked out for giving a hundred percent of himself for a cause he barely believed in.

They stopped at the doors. Keith riffled through his pockets, looking for his keycard but came up empty and even more irate than when he had started. He smacked the glass door, then again and again until his hand hurt, and then kept going anyway, hurting inside and wanting to hurt outside too.

“Whoa!”

Lance held onto his forearm, grip tighter than he expected. Keith struggled in his grasp for a moment before the fight drifted out of him. They stood there for a moment, Lance holding him and Keith being held like a toddler in the middle of a tantrum.

They were like that until the tone signaling the end of the day rang out throughout the grounds. People came spilling out of the buildings, and Lance let go of Keith. Now that he wasn’t angry, and wasn’t being held, he realized how cold he was. They were both only wearing their training gear, muddied and ripped in various places. They would have to go back for their clothes before it was too late.

“Let’s go.” He led the way back to the training building, hoping that he wouldn’t have to run into the Sergeant or any of the other kids that bared witness to his failure.

Lance trailed behind him, oddly quiet and subdued.

-

The front door was locked, which neither of them was expecting.

The sun was quickly setting and if they didn’t hurry up they wouldn't be able to make it to dinner in time, and then they would be locked out, the last thing Lance wanted was to be stuck out in the cold. “How are we going to get into our rooms?”

“Break in.”

“Into our rooms?”

“No, into here. Here, watch and learn.”

Keith crouched down and picked something from his boot, then picked something else from his hair. A bobby pin?

“You’re going to try to break in with a pocket knife and a bobby pin?”

“No.” Keith said, working on the lock before the heavy doors swung open, “I’m going to  _ successfully _ break in with a pocket knife and a bobby pin.” He turned and smiled at Lance slowly putting the knife back into his boot and the pin back into his shaggy hair. The wicked smile on Keith’s face made something hot go through his stomach at the sight. Lance vaguely wondered where someone could acquire such a skill. Was it something that he was taught, or was it out of necessity?

Either option didn’t seem right in the least.

While they walked down the hall towards the locker room Lance let the inquiry slip, cautious of the outcome, “Who taught you how to do that?”

“Myself.”

“Why?”

“What’s it to you?”

Shrugging, Lance looked at the pictures on the walls of previous cadets with outstanding records and achievements, all of them unique in their own way - they all brought something to the Garrison. What did Keith bring if not a shitty attitude and a way to break into places?

“Just seems like an odd skill to have,” Lance answered, nonchalant and unaware of Keith’s clenched fists and grimace. “Lucky for us of course.”

“Yeah,” Keith said. “Lucky for us.”

When they reached the locker room they each went to their respective locker, quietly opening them. Their backs were turned to each other and only a small distance separated them. Changing in front of a single person was much different than a group of young men, all of which were enough of a buffer to not make things feel awkward. Now it was.

When he peeked over his shoulder he could see the small moles that were constellations on Keith’s pale skin, but most noticeable was a large pale scar that interrupted the smooth skin of Keith’s back, just above the waist of his pants. Lance would never have noticed it if he wasn’t looking so hard.

Embarrassed, he turned away, flushed red, and quickly changed back into his military uniform. He threw his training clothes into the bag he had in the locker violently, movements rushed and jerky now. He wanted to ask about the scar but knew that if he did it would be admitting to the fact that Lance had been staring.

“Let’s get out of here.” He barked out. He was about to move to the door when the loud crash of something stopped him in his tracks.

Keith and Lance looked at each other like deer caught in the headlights.

“What the fuck do we do?” Lance whispered, terrified and wondering what the consequences of breaking into a building were. He was going to throw Keith under the bus.

“I don’t know!” Keith whispered back, equally terrified. Lance could only assume that Keith would blame him.

The sound of giggling and conspiring to whisper caught them both off guard.

“Is that?” Keith started.

Lance nodded. “It is.”

They both dove for cover as the door slid open.

The sound of heavy breathing and giggling continued, with intermittent coughs as someone took a sip of something that smelled strong and heavy and clung to the air. If the two people were drunk at least it would be easier to leave unnoticed.

Lance looked around the corner to see what the situation was and where the two kids were in relation to them. Hopefully, if Keith and Lance shuffled out the other two would be none the wiser.

His eyes widened in shock.

Two beautiful boys were frantically kissing and groping at each other, distracted by each other and minds liquidized by liquor. Lance covered his mouth to keep from doing something stupid like a squeak.

When he turned back his face felt weird. It was like he was trying to keep his cool but was significantly failing.

“Let’s go. Now.”

They both quietly stalked out, faces blazing red, with the sound of ragged breathing fading away the further they became.

-

Keith had a routine already down pat. He found that a routine was the best way to stay sane in all matters of life. He followed it religiously and to the letter.

At 5 AM he woke up, by 6 AM he ate at the mess, and by 7 AM he was in his first class.

Lately, though he found himself having difficulty focusing. At least four of his classes he shared with Lance, most of them physical or hands-on. Whether it was running or flying the simulator, it was always like they were competing against each other. Keith tried not to notice, and so upturned his nose at every stink eye that Lance sent his way.

During their first test in Advanced Engineering, a finely dressed man came up to the instructor and spoke to him quietly, a stern look on his face. The instructor nodded and walked up the stairs until he was standing beside Keith.

“Cadet, you’re wanted in Montgomery’s office.”

“Sir?”

“They just need to ask you a few questions.”

“Will I be able to finish my test at a later time?”

“You can come back at lunch.”

He was going to bomb the test.

-

Montgomery’s room was adequately sized for someone who ran the place. The wall to the left of her desk was filled with leather bound books with roman numerals. They looked expensive, and he doubted she had read any of them.

She was sitting at her desk, typing something on his laptop, wire glasses on her angular face. Her hair was in a tight bun on top of her head, and the crows feet at the corner of her eyes suggested she was much older than she appeared. Although Keith realized, it was hard to date an iceberg.

“Cadet.” Her voice was cool, a timbre that made Keith shiver. It was like she was saying an insult, but all she had done was motion at Keith to come sit down, all without looking up from his quick typing, strokes faster than lightning and eyes piercing.

He sat down. The room looked old, too many wood accents for such a clean environment they were in. Keith was used to seeing metal everywhere; white and gray cement every other step.

It felt like he was back in time.

She stopped, inexplicably. The sudden lack of sound was jarring in the space, and Montgomery sized him up where he sat in her comfortable leather chair. He fidgeted uncomfortably, glancing at everything but her. It was like she was trying to see through him. Keith was pretty sure it was working.

“Where were you a week ago at nineteen hundred hours?”

He could hardly remember what he had that morning for breakfast.

When no answer was forthcoming Montgomery sighed and leaned back in her chair, bringing up something on her computer before turning it around for Keith to see.

“Perhaps this will help you recall.”

The screen showed both him and Lance sneaking around, towards the changing rooms, all with different views. Montgomery fast forwarded the clip, and then in came the couple, their giggling on mute, when suddenly the feed cut off, static grain filling up the screen.

Keith could feel his face flush at the memory at hearing the sound of the couples wet kissing. He tried to glare at the screen instead. Hopefully, she couldn’t see how red he was. “Why is this so important?”

Turning the screen back around she steepled her fingers, glaring back at Keith.

“The two are MIA.”

His body felt cold, he had never been more still in his entire life. MIA sounded like they didn’t expect to find them.

This wasn’t an interview, this was an interrogation.

“Lance and I forgot our keycards…” He was afraid to say much else. It was pretty clear she already had a suspect in mind. He wasn’t too keen on putting himself under the microscope than he already was.

“Cadet Kogane, was it?”

He had to swallow the excess spit in his mouth, nervous but holding his ground. She was the only one here to play good-cop-bad-cop. Her good cop was significantly lacking.

“Correct, Ma’am.”

“I’m having a hard time believing you Cadet. Your transcripts say you had a temper. What’s to say it didn’t get the better of you?”

“What?”

“But of course there is the matter of McClain being in your company at the time.”

The world stopped at that. He didn’t think it was possible.

“We got out when they started having sex.”

“Would he corroborate your story?”

“Absolutely.”

-

He gripped the edge of the cold leather chair he was sitting in, uncomfortable and stiff as a board. He assumed that was the point. “They’ve disappeared?”

“Yes. And what were you doing there?”

Lance didn’t like how she looked like some villain, tempting children into eating candy, and then clawing out their eyes with her sharp nails. She looked deadly in every meaning of the word. Lance looked down at his lap and tried to sit up even straighter in her presence.

“Me and Keith forgot our key cards. We couldn’t get into our building without it. They started…

you know… bumping uglies? So we left.”

Montgomery smirked and leaned back in her chair. It creaked and it was something that Lance tried to focus on. It was one of the few noises in the room, besides the distant sound of a clock that was slowing driving him crazy.

The silence continued. Montgomery steepled her fingers and looked at Lance like she was trying to decipher some great code, but he could honestly say that the only thing he was trying to hide was how stupefied he was. Once again his idealized world of the Garrison had been shattered, and he was worried that it would continue to do so.

The Garrison wasn’t the sort of place people just left. It was a great opportunity! It was a one-way ticket to greatness! It was supposed to be a place where he could make friends and learn to be a hero.

But kids were deserting? Already? It wasn’t even three months in, and cadets were already abandoning their dream of going to the stars?

Lance was aware how hard being a cadet was, and how much harder it was going to continue to be. But this wasn’t making it any easier.

“Can you tell me anything else?”

The slick sound of kissing interrupted his thoughts, bated breath and rustling clothes as they were discarded. There was something about the sounds and hushed voices that made Lance fidget in his seat, especially considering it was Keith he was with when it happened.

“No ma’am.” He said at her nameplate, a safer option as opposed to her deadly eyes, “there’s nothing else.”


End file.
